Yorkshire Lyrics. John Hartley
——
My heart was full to bursting,
When I heard the woeful tale;
I gazed a moment on the face
Which death had left so pale;
Then clasping to my heaving breast
The little orphan pair,
I sank upon my bended knees,
And offered up a prayer,
That God would give me power to aid
Those children in distress,
That I might as a father be
Unto the fatherless.
Then coaxingly I led them forth;
And as the road was long,
I bore them in my arms by turns—
Their tears had made me strong.
I took them to my humble home,
Where now they may be seen,
The lad—a noble-minded youth—
His "sissy,"—beauty's queen.
And now if you should chance to see,
Far from the bustling throng,
An old man, whom a youth and maid
Lead tenderly along;—
And if you, wondering, long to know
The history of the three—
They are the little orphan pair—
The poor old man is me:
And oft upon the grassy mound
'Neath which their parents sleep,
They bend the knee, and pray for me;
I pray for them and weep.
Did yo Ivver!
"Gooid gracious!" cried Susy, one fine summer's morn,
"Here's a bonny to do! aw declare!
Aw wor nivver soa capt sin th' day aw wor born!
Aw neer saw sich a seet at a fair.
Here, Sally! come luk! There's a maase made its nest
Reight i'th' craan o' mi new Sundy bonnet!
Haivver its fun its way into this chist,
That caps me! Aw'm fast what to mak on it!
It's cut! Sithee thear! It's run reight under th' bed!
An luk here! What's these little things stirrin?
If they arn't some young uns 'at th' gooid-for-nowt's bred,
May aw be as deead as a herrin!
But what does ta say? 'Aw mun draand 'em?' nooan soa!
Just luk ha they're seekin ther mother;
Shoo must be a poor little softheead to goa;
For awm nooan baan to cause her noa bother.
But its rayther to bad, just to mak her hooam thear;
For mi old en's net fit to be seen in;
An this new en, awm thinkin, 'll luk rayther queer
After sich a rum lot as that's been in.
But shut up awr pussy, an heed what aw say;
Yo mun keep a sharp eye or shoo'll chait us;
Ah if shoo sees th' mother shoo'll kill it! An pray
What mun become o' these poor helpless crayturs?
A'a dear! fowk have mich to be thankful for, yet,
'At's a roof o' ther own to cawer under,
For if we'd to seek ony nook we could get,
Whativver'd come on us aw wonder?
We should nooan on us like to be turned aght o' door,
Wi' a lot o' young bairns to take care on;
An altho' awm baght bonnet, an think misen poor,
What little aw have yo'st have't share on.
That poor little maase aw dooant think meant me harm,
Shoo ne'er knew what that bonnet had cost me;
All shoo wanted wor some little nook snug an warm
An a gooid two-o'-three shillin its lost me.
Aw should think as they've come into th' world born i' silk,
They'll be aristocratical varmin;
But awm wasting mi time! awl goa get 'em some milk,
An na daat but th' owd lass likes it warmin.
Bless mi life! a few drops 'll sarve them! If we try
Awm weel sure we can easily spare 'em,
But as sooin as they're able, awl mak 'em all fly!
Nivver mind if aw dooant! harum scarum!"
A Quiet Tawk.
"Nah, lass, caar thi daan, an let's have a chat—
It's long sin we'd th' haase to ussen;
Just give me thi nooations o' this thing an that,
What tha thinks abaat measures an men.
We've lived a long time i' this world an we've seen,
A share of its joys an its cares;
Tha wor nooan born baght wit, an tha'rt net varry green,
Soa let's hear what tha thinks of affairs."
"Well, Jooany, aw've thowt a gooid deal i' mi time,
An aw think wi' one thing tha'll agree—
If tha'd listened sometimes to advice sich as mine,
It mud ha been better for thee.
This smookin an drinkin—tha knows tha does booath,
It's a sad waste o' brass tha'll admit;
But awm net findin fault—noa indeed! awd be looath!
But aw want thi to reason a bit."
"Then tha'rt lawse i' thi tawk, tho' tha doesn't mean wrang,
An tha says stuff aw darnt repeat;
An tha grumels at hooam if we chonce to be thrang,
When tha comes throo thi wark of a neet.
An if th' childer are noisy, tha kicks up a shine,
Tha mud want 'em as dummy as wax;
An if they should want owt to laik wi' 'at's thine,
They're ommost too freetened to ax."
"An they all want new clooas, they're ashamed to be seen,
An aw've net had a new cap this year;
An awm sewer it's fair cappin ha careful we've been,
There's nooan like us for that onnywhear."
"Come, lass, that's enuff—when aw ax'd thi to talk,
It worn't a sarmon aw meant,
Soa aw'll don on mi hat, an aw'll goa for a walk,
For dang it! tha'rt nivver content!"
Lines, on Startling a Rabbit.
Whew!—Tha'rt in a famous hurry!
Awm nooan baan to try to catch thi!
Aw've noa dogs wi' me to worry
Thee poor thing—aw like to watch thi.
Tha'rt a runner! aw dar back thi,
Why, tha ommost seems to fly!
Did ta think aw